


There's something about you, Merlin..

by jyusan



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-26
Updated: 2012-04-26
Packaged: 2017-11-04 08:56:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/392049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jyusan/pseuds/jyusan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur starts wondering just who Merlin really is, and whether their friendship is worth fighting for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There's something about you, Merlin..

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [Merlin Canon Fest '12](http://merlin_canon.livejournal.com/) at LJ.   
> Half of it is a reinterpretation of the fourth season from Arthur's viewpoint; spoilers up to the very last episode.
> 
> (This is my first proper story in this fandom; I'm incredibly grateful for the lovely feedback)

**14.**  
Pinpointing the start of it all would be like identifying the exact place where the first crack began to form; and even then, who would be able to tell whether it was the first, the third or the fifth rift that made the ceiling crumble down and the walls sway? Most would argue it doesn’t even matter, not when all that is left of the structure are bricks and rocks, covered by uneven dust. The broken pieces remaining of the once stable and gracious arch of the corridor are useless, they would say, new materials are needed to build up a strong support again. Until they can acquire those, it’s better to close off the entire compartment, lest the remaining structure come undone and harm someone. _Right, sire?_

“Right, sire?”

Arthur shakes himself as his thoughts and reality collide, covering up the movement with a cough.

“Yes, Sir Leon, of course. Once we finished investigating it’s better to close off this wing of the castle entirely until the restorations are complete” he answers, looking around the room where Morgana disappeared, knowing they won’t find any clues regarding the whereabouts of his half-sister. Collapsing rooms and mysterious disappearances seem to be her choice of travel lately, though there is something peculiar about her escape this time...

“Gwen, you said Morgana wasn’t the cause of the collapse. Why?” he asks his (soon to be again) betrothed, who led him to the place where Morgana was last seen, amidst a timid recall of their fight.

“Well, I can’t see why would she have done that..” Gwen starts, looking anywhere but at Arthur with an embarrassed shift of her shoulders. “because she has just disarmed me and was about to strike when the rocks started to fall and she... she just suddenly flew backwards.”

Arthur feels bile rising up in his throat at the thought of Gwen being so close to death, saved by nothing but a mere chance he doesn’t have an explanation for, but tries to focus on the latter instead of the anger seizing his stomach. “She... flew?”

“Th-that’s what it looked like” Gwen answers looking at him this time, her eyes showing only the honesty and not the confusion of her words. “Maybe Merlin can affirm it? He appeared just as the rocks started to fall”

Gwen’s tone is innocent but Arthur feels a heavy weight settle on him at the mention of his friend - arriving just on the brink of destruction, as always, it seems. He is not present at the time, which is slightly odd in itself, but that’s not what unnerves Arthur. In the past months, Merlin’s person got more heavily intertwined with mysteries - a development that both frightens and enrages Arthur, unable to find a name for the confusion he feels around his friend... And his doubts only grew more painful as he could and stopped denying the strength of their bond.

He is vaguely aware of Gwen saying she can go and ask Merlin while helping out with the injured and Arthur nods numbly, gesturing to Leon to follow her out, seeking solitude with his troubling thoughts.

He looks again at what remains of the ceiling, at the place where Morgana has fallen and picks through the debris with a heavy mind, finding himself once again resorting to simpler analogies to his troubles.

No one would bother sorting through the debris and finding out the cataclysm of the “lucky” incident, no one but those who want to restore the ruins back to exact way they were before, clinging to the hope that it can all be mended and doesn’t have to be started over from a scratch.

**3.**  
Funny, how many things seemed to have started on the very day Arthur’s entire life went crumbling down.

He still felt shadowed by the past days when the coronation ceremony took place, and so it was his gloomy manservant and not his knights he gravitated towards to. Their smiles, well meaning as they were, blinded him in his sorrow, and few hours into the feast he excused himself, retiring to his room with Merlin by his side, who looked just as tired and dejected as Arthur was.

Arthur appreciated the unusual silence as Merlin was undressing him, not putting much thought into its cause until Merlin reached for his crown, touching it carefully and placing it on a pillow with slightly shaking fingers.

“Are you overwhelmed by becoming the king’s manservant?” he asked when Merlin didn’t seem to stop looking at the crown. The joking words felt odd and too raw in his mouth, disjointed from the mood of the present but still the only way Arthur felt comfortable at talking.

“Once a clotpole, always a clotpole” Merlin answered, but without the usual challenging disobedience in his eyes, and suddenly Arthur yearned for the familiarity of their banter, or anything of the customary to stop feeling so out of touch with his life.

“I thought you believed I’d make a good king one day” he said while pulling a mock-offended face, but for all Merlin reacted, he could have been making fish sounds.

“You will be” Merlin answered dreamily to an undefined point above Arthur’s left shoulder, then he shook himself and sent one of those reassuring watery smiles in Arthur’s direction which always made his own troubles disappear in flight to allow place for wanderings about his friend’s mood.

Because that’s what they were. Friends. In light of the recent reminder of life’s fragility Arthur could admit that now, and he did so aloud when he found Merlin after the mourning for his father. But the natural companionship he felt that morning was gone now; it was like the heavy weight of the new crown settled between them.

After Merlin quietly bid him goodnight, Arthur didn’t have trouble sleeping because of the pressure of the future of his kingdom, though.

But because his tired mind dreamt about losing another one of the very few people he had left to cherish in his life.

**_1._ **   
_“All the things I've faced...I never worried about dying” Arthur found himself admitting the thought out loud, but the words didn’t calm his shaking in the unnatural cold._

_“I don't think you should now” Merlin answered with conviction. Despite wearing less layers of clothing, he didn’t seem to be affected by the cold or the dread of the Dorocha as much as Arthur was. One of those rare fires seemed to burn in him which simultaneously amazed and confused Arthur every time he took notice of it._

_“Sometimes you puzzle me” his mouth ran off with the words._

_“You never fathomed me out?” Merlin asked, his voice getting caught in his throat halfway and coming out with strange mix of humour and melancholy._

_The air seemed to froze around Arthur as he considered the question. “No.”_

**6.**  
He thinks, _now_ , that he ought to have realized in that moment or... the other.

But how could there have been place for doubts or questions in his mind when it was filled to the brink with worry; how could have his ragged heart possible care for anything else when it was overcome by the relief of seeing that silly face again?

The oddness of Merlin’s survival had not gone unnoticed by Arthur either times. They had been added to the growing pile of mysteries and questions regarding the other man - a pile he had no inclination of inspecting closely, not when happiness overwhelmed him and his present feelings were perplexing enough on their own.

The fact that Gwaine teased him for a fortnight during every banquet about “the embrace” didn’t matter, either...

…not when in hindsight that was the moment when he accepted something crucial, something that helps him breathe now when the tides are turning.

He could and can not envision a future without Merlin by his side.

**7.**  
The whole _incident_ with Gaius was much like a slap to the face for Arthur, and he was still reeling from the strength of it when Agravaine and Merlin tried to pull him in two different directions.

He felt himself backed into a corner, once again, as the world required the fast and firm decision of a king from him, but all he wanted to do was face the pain and the confusion as a simple man. Getting betrayed by someone he loved and trusted, again, was such a devastating idea that Arthur found himself leaning towards Agravaine’s rational arguments, which were easier to process than the ache and disbelief in his heart.

The lifelong prejudice against everything regarding magic was not something he could cast aside easily. He knew of and overlooked Merlin’s occasional support of magic, but when he asked Arthur to doubt his uncle’s intentions, something snapped inside him.

Even if there was truth to Merlin’s words, how could he ask him to second guess the words of someone he trusted so much in exchange for the opposite for a man he held in the same regard? Who was he to decide where to draw the line of faith, when Arthur already turned a blind eye daily to the puzzles concerning Merlin himself?

It was like a trigger, the final drop in that cup of questions that Arthur had been ignoring for months. He had thought that those little things didn’t matter as long as at the end of the day Merlin was there, the same honest and brave idiot he always was... But when the concept of loyalty and truthfulness got assaulted from so many directions in Arthur’s life, he could no longer disregard the uncertainty he had been feeling around Merlin, either.

“Maybe it’s just a misunderstanding” Gwen pleaded for Gaius’ case when she found Arthur deep in his lonely thoughts later, but he was too far gone in a confusing web of facts and theories to be able to reach a definite conclusion then, either, and he pushed her gentle attempt of help away. Gwen’s earnest face reminded him too much of Merlin’s teary and disappointed eyes - an image that caused Arthur involuntarily distress even when he was in the middle of reevaluating his friend’s every step.

By the time the Gaius’ episode unwrapped, Arthur had learned many things from it, even if coming out none the wiser. The old physician had his complete trust and respect once again, and he had no intention of throwing it away. It was inconceivable to think ill of what Gaius had been put through; if the story had missing elements, none were related to the old man’s merit, which Arthur held in renewed regard. Gaius also gave him a few new things to consider which seemed to prickle with an odd familiarity at the edge of his mind.

The happenings in the recent days also made Arthur realize that if he wanted to keep Merlin in the close quarters of his heart he had wormed his way into, he would have to start looking instead of blinking every time something out of the ordinary occurred around his friend.

And if Merlin’s blank answer to Arthur’s apology was any sign to how much they still had to learn about each other, then they were in for a long road, a road Arthur had every intention to see through.

**9. & 10.**  
Some things were easier to explain than others.

When Merlin begged forgiveness for Gwen or his face fell as Arthur exclaimed he would never be able to trust her again, no matter how much he loved her, was self evident. Merlin and Gwen were close friends, and the entire tragedy shook all of them too much for Arthur to dwell too much on any additional details.

But then there was the moment, that quiet and small one just after they put Elyan to rest under Gaius’ care. They walked out of the room to leave the physician space for examination and stood silently in the corridor, neither quite looking at the other. Arthur felt emotionally drained but oddly relieved and _free_ after all that occurred by the shrine.

His face was sticky from his dried tears but he didn't feel embarrassed of them – strangely enough, during the entire ordeal, revealing an uncommon vulnerability in front of anyone, in front of Merlin, didn't trouble him. He started to wonder about that when he felt a slight change in the air, and as he glanced up he found himself staring into Merlin's bright eyes. It was a sight he would never forget.

Merlin was looking at him with such an open admiration that swelled Arthur’s heart to the brink of bursting his lungs. It could have been ridiculous, might have looked like that from the outside even, but Arthur couldn’t look away from his friend’s serious and unashamed face. He was overcome with the urge to explain _himself_ , to apologize for not earning that kind of attention, and it was such an unnatural feeling for him he didn’t know how to handle it. They were stuck in this odd staring match for several minutes, and before any of them could break the awkward yet strangely pleasant silence, Gaius exited the room to inform them of Elyan’s state.

The moment was gone, but Arthur couldn’t forget about it for days (weeks), no matter how hazy and even more surreal his memories painted it.

He felt it was the key, the icing on the cake that was Merlin’s mystery, but he couldn’t figure out the taste just then.

**11.**  
The closer Arthur seemed to get to the truth, the more frustrated he became.

Every time he looked at Merlin now, he saw two people - the brave and bumbling idiot who had always been there for him, and the mysterious man who sometimes appeared in vague comments then retreated in haste. The strangest part of it was how despite all of Arthur’s awful experiences with people who were not truthful to him, Merlin’s puzzle felt more like a challenge than an insult. Still, he was an impatient man who grew easily tired of the chase when the prey was nowhere in sight.

And basically that was what happened when Merlin angrily accused Arthur of not telling about his plans with Princess Mithian ahead of time. It could have been so simple to shout back “well, it’s not like you’re telling me everything, either” and Arthur almost did so, but something akin to pride and stubbornness stopped him. Hunting for an animal that tried to escape him usually entertained Arthur, but there was a creeping sadness to the fact that he had to figure out by himself what Merlin was hiding, because his friend didn’t seem to want to confide in him even when gently probed.

Overcame by the hurt, Arthur voluntarily distanced himself from Merlin in the upcoming days, averting his efforts at help. Mithian turned out to be surprisingly lovely, but there was no chance of them getting really close, not when her sweet smiles reminded him of Gwen and Merlin openly seethed at them in the background.

When he found Gwen’s ring in the forest, the world seemed to shrink in on itself and he found himself subdued by grief on the forest floor. The reasons for her banishment escaped him for a few seconds as he was filled with worry for the woman he had cared for and still loved. Shaken in his suddenly resurfaced sorrow, Arthur’s eyes were drawn to Merlin’s for support, and his friend looked back at him sadly, but unjudging. Merlin’s gaze filled Arthur with a reassuring warmth, but the cold ring in his hands reminded him of how fast such adherence could be lost.

Back at the castle after, Arthur was lost in his thoughts for a long time, even with Merlin’s unfortunate interruption. The sudden, strong accusations against Agravaine had made him feel even more disjointed from his friend. Arthur had already known Merlin held contempt against his uncle, but that was the first time Merlin openly went against the other man, yet still without actual proof or explanation. Arthur could no longer ignore the severity of such felonious claims against an acclaimed court member, and he might had gone through with his threats of banishment, had it been someone else... and if his heart wasn’t stressed by regret over casting Gwen out of his life at the time.

He didn’t know for sure what the objective evaluation of the infidelity should have been - it was full of hazy details, much like Gaius’ kidnapping which he misjudged, and he wondered, even hoped a bit, that he was actually wrong again.

He owed it to himself and to the kingdom to try to be surrounded by loyal people he could trust; but he also owed it to himself to allow the care for the people he loved, even if the feeling was misdirected. By making himself accept that he could no longer completely trust Merlin, not when he had so obviously hidden so many things from him, he had turned wary of the entire world, and there were no longer any fixed points in his life.

But he could and would not stop caring for those people important to him, not when that little act of foolishness could let him keep his sanity.

**13.**  
Arthur woke up feeling cold yet oddly comfortable despite lying in a bush. His first thought was wondering where he was, but he didn’t find it a particularly distressing question. The second idea to form in his head was _Merlin_ , Merlin in general, and it made him feel happy and some kind of warm fuzzy feeling he hadn’t experienced before. He stood up to search for his friend, because he was sure everything would be fine as long as they were together again.

He stopped in his tracks when the sentence formulated in his mind. The boundless trust and dependence he experienced in that moment was so surreal that it completely disappeared by the next and he was left with an uncanny emptiness in his heart where unguarded affection dwelled before.

The abrupt change of his emotions and the stark difference between them swayed him, and it took him a minute or so to grasp reality again. He expertly pushed aside the unnatural happening, which seemed to be somehow related to Merlin, again, and walked forward with a more focused mindset, ignoring the pang of regret he felt over losing the pleasantly content seconds after waking up.

-

It was hard for Arthur to stay mad at Merlin for any extended period of time, not when he was still the one who kept helping him through the challenges of his life. His loyalty and dedication gave Arthur strength when he couldn’t find it on his own.

But it was also difficult to look over the blatant lies, the tales and the vague excuses. Arthur followed Merlin where he led him, feeling he had nothing left to lose, not when the one thing he had left was hanging by loose threads, too.

Had it not been a time for fast and crucial action, Arthur could have pressed Merlin more to reveal his secrets and his motivations. Merlin seemed to be keen on helping him, and it wasn’t vital for Arthur to learn the explanation for his actions, no matter how much it distressed him on a personal level.

Their eventual victory was not a triumphant one, not at the cost of Isolde’s life and at the sight of Tristan’s heartbreak. And as Arthur looked up on Merlin and Gwen in that moment, he let the pain of lost love wash over him, too. He saw two people in front of him he could never bear to lose ever again, but that realization had only been enough to mend one of these relationships.

**15.**  
When Arthur finally figures it all out, it seems like the most obvious thing in the world.

It happens after Leon gives him a report about the search party he sent after his uncle. “We found them all dead near Ealdor, sire. Some of them lied burned on a field, while others we found in the nearby cave you told me about. They had no outside physical signs of injury, just cracks at the back of their skulls. Lord Agravaine was among them. I’m not sure what exactly happened to them, sire. We found no leads to follow.”

Sir Leon’s voice is free of any implications as he tells the story, delivering the information in a matter of fact way that has Arthur trust him explicitly. They both know what could have been a logical explanation, having grown up in Camelot where it was the answer to everything mysterious, but there is a crucial information that Arthur has and the knight doesn’t know of, enabling only one of them to theorize about the odd end Agravaine has met.

“Thank you, Sir Leon, I trust you’ve done all you could” Arthur answers and gestures for the knight to leave the throne room. “Tell the guards by the door not to let anyone in here. I need some time alone to think this through” he adds, and Leon nods obediently, only showing his friendly worry in his eyes.

At the sound of the heavy doors shutting, Arthur lets it all sink in.

Agravaine magically dying right on their tail.

Merlin going back to stop Agravaine.

Magic.

Merlin.

He sits down as the realization fully forms in his head. _Merlin has magic and used it to stop Agravaine_. There is no other explanation yet it still sounds impossible, even more so than when five years ago Merlin bursted into the very same room, claiming he was a warlock.

A choked laugh escapes Arthur at the memory. _Has the answer to all his headaches really been staring into his face all along?_

He waits for the rage or the disgust to come, but it never does. He thinks about his father and how he would feel if he got to know a sorcerer had been living right under his nose for so many years. Maybe it’s the latter thought that doesn’t have Arthur shouting for the guards right away, because surely, if Merlin had some kind of evil master plan, he would have executed it by now and wouldn’t have let Arthur order him around for so long.

He does feel sadness and betrayal instead. Has Merlin’s every word been a lie? Why would someone so powerful, someone who could stop an entire armed party, act like a bumbling idiot and live as a servant? Is his plan to earn Arthur’s trust and influence his decisions? The devastating part, Arthur thinks, is that Merlin has already achieved all of that without Arthur knowing whom he opened up to.

He stands up and starts pacing in the chamber. The logical, the safe decision in this situation would be to burn or banish Merlin, because even if he hasn’t done any visible damage, he had been deceiving the prince and the later king by withholding the truth about himself. But he feels physically sick at the idea, even more so because of the fresh memories of what it’s like to cut someone so important out of his life, and if he is being honest to himself - and really, it seems he is the only one left to do so - casting Merlin away would tear at him in ways Gwen never could.

He wonders if it’s even under his jurisdiction to determine where their futures should lead. Has everything, the friendship, the companionable hours by the fires during their numerous quests, the occasional wise advice, the unrelenting support, been all just one big act? He stops and grabs a chair for support, focusing on his breathing and willing away the tears that start collecting in his eyes.

How many times can one possibly survive treachery at the hands of those they let the closest to their hearts?

Merlin is a sorcerer. So that’s what he has been hiding all along. To calm himself, Arthur tries to revisit every time he has felt something was suspicious regarding his fr-.. manservant.

He probably survived the Dorocha’s attack thanks to his abilities. _Did Lancelot know about it?_ Arthur wonders with a fresh wave of heartache. Merlin’s reaction after Uther’s death, after Arthur’s declaration of hate against magic - that barely concealed despair makes more sense now. So does the unguarded affection Arthur saw on Merlin’s face after he professed his change of heart over magic, and the question stays: why would Merlin choose to live in Camelot, a kingdom which until recently has been actively hunting his kind? What does he hope to gain from it?

_“I’m happy to be your servant until the day I die”_ Arthur suddenly remembers Merlin’s cryptic monologue from so long ago, and he retraces the memory with the new knowledge at hand. That talk of theirs have always been one of Arthur’s most confusing memories, one which he has thought he half imagined from the aftereffects of the Questing Beast’s poison. The poison, which almost and should have killed him. No one second guessed Gaius when he came up with a remedy, such a relief Arthur’s recovery was, but he wonders now. Whether his magical recovery indeed happened by the help of sorcery. Whether Merlin’s sudden heartfelt speech, a badly concealed goodbye had anything to do with it. He remembers the embarrassing worry he felt the next day, when Merlin was nowhere to be found. He recalls sitting by the window and staring out until he saw Merlin and Gaius walking in, dripping wet and almost battleworn. They later claimed they’d met with some trouble while collecting some flowers, but Arthur could never shake off the feeling that Merlin talked to him the previous day because he didn’t expect to return alive. What was the price of his recovery, then?

It seems like wishful thinking to hope that Merlin was using his powers to aid Arthur all along, but the more he inspects some of his queer memories, the more he feels the idea becoming realistic. _“I'm not the only one seeking to protect you“_ Gaius said to him during their reunion not so long ago, and that piece slides effortlessly into Arthur’s theories. Gaius must know about Merlin then, he thinks, since he protected the old warlock and he ponders whether the three of them have their own circle of magic-

Oh.

The old sorcerer with the funny manners who appeared only twice from literally nowhere at critical moments in Arthur’s life. The man who took blame for an enchantment he had obviously not done. The man who attempted to heal his father, for nothing but a promise of a better future.

The man who made Arthur carry him on his back and treated the prince like a horse.

Arthur laughs out loud, and really _this must be the end_ , he reckons. What is this crazy world, where his manservant is secretly a powerful sorcerer who keeps silently aiding him from the background? The worst part is it that it actually makes sense, though what’s sensible or not in the world anymore, Arthur doesn’t know.

The small cheeriness leaves him soon, because he realizes he is still only just theorizing. Merlin has actually not told him about his true self. He might deem Arthur’s life worth saving, but not consider the king worthy of confiding with his secret. That fact stings no less in the sight of Merlin’s redeeming actions, and Arthur feels the loss of their friendship like a bucket of cold water over his back.

He won’t send Merlin away, no, he decides. But he can’t regard him with the same old fondness, either, not when he doesn’t know just who is Merlin really.

Not when he refuses to be honest with Arthur.

**16.**  
What Arthur does is start watching Merlin more intently and gently probing him to find assurance for his theories.

It’s not easy, not while getting married and restoring the castle after the recent battle. Before he notices, weeks pass, and he is none the smarter, but Merlin still hasn’t turned him into a toad, which is a possibility he remembers daily now.

They’re not as close as they were before, but they haven’t been for a long while now, and Arthur looks for signs that it affects Merlin as much as it does him. He thinks he finds them in the strained edge of his smiles, the tired shadows under his eyes and the more regular drops in his shoulders. Their banters are not the same, lacking the usual fire and parallel wordless conversations. Arthur knows, or suspects that Merlin feels odd now, that Gwen is queen and he is still only a mere servant, but he doesn’t say a word about it.

But Arthur keeps looking and he finds, small sniffs and bowed heads when Merlin is serving them for lunch for instance. Gwen offers him a place at their table every time and Arthur silently encourages it, but Merlin always just shakes his head. He is generally more silent than before, and that would be strange in itself, but with Arthur’s knowledge of his real powers, it’s just unfathomable why he keeps standing by the sidelines, looking worse for wear with every passing day but not doing anything about it.

He also tries to catch Merlin performing magic, but after several pieces of “accidentally” broken pottery and a mishandling of his sword he gives up. He goes as far as bringing it up in a conversation casually one day, just a throw away line of “I guess the restorations could go faster if we used some magic”, but all he earns is Merlin’s fingers freezing for a moment on his armor, then a drawn out “right, sire” and such an evasive look that Arthur wonders how could he not pick up on the man’s reactions to magic before.

He organizes an impromptu hunting trip one day, just him, his most trusted knights and Merlin. He finds some of the comforting familiarity in the woods he has been missing. The knights are teasing Merlin as always, and he easily falls into the pattern, too. For a few hours, it’s almost like the old times, when his biggest worry regarding Merlin was the social gate between them, and not the actual existence of their friendship. During the evening he takes the first watch, as always - and Merlin accompanies him, as always. The knights are used to it and all turn in for sleep without a second look at the pair of them.

It’s different this time, of course. There is a silent tension between them that wasn’t before, or at least Arthur hasn’t noticed it. His mood grows melancholic as he watches the fire and listens to its crackling, remembering other nights when it wasn’t just the fire’s heat but also Merlin’s companionship that kept him warm. But the fire this time is small and Merlin is far out of his reach, in every aspect it seems.

“Do you trust me?” Arthur asks suddenly, and it surprises both of them. It’s a question that has been probing silently at the edge of his consciousness constantly for the past month. Months.

“Of course” Merlin answers, but his demeanour tells a completely different tale - the small light of the fire emphasizes the crinkles made from his furrowed brows, and his shoulders are tense and drawn in a defensive position. And in his eyes there is something akin to... fear.

As Arthur keeps staring at him in bewilderment, Merlin’s posture changes to one more of confusion. It’s been a long while since they held a silent conversation by looks only, and Arthur is not sure he remembers the language anymore, but the connection makes them, their relationship, feel real and alive again.

He wants to blurt out _“then why don’t you tell me?”_ but Merlin’s initial reaction is easy to interpret and it feels like a punch to his guts.

Arthur has suspected it, yes, but to get proof that Merlin really gives such little merit to him and their friendship, if there ever was one, as to fear for his safety... he feels betrayed all over again. He is the one who breaks their gazing match eventually and they don’t really talk anything of importance later on.

From that day, things between them become even more strained and complicated, as if that was even humanly possible. Many times when Arthur is watching Merlin, an obsessive habit he can’t shake off anymore, their eyes meet for a while. Merlin always looks surprised and wary, but when it happens more than once a day, his eyes change to curious and challenging. It’s intriguing enough that Arthur doesn’t stop with the embarrassing custom. Still, none of them breaks the silence or comments out of line.

Arthur refuses to give in, holding on to a little dignity he has left after realizing this relationship has been completely out of his control all this time. He feels exposed, and while some irrational part of him seems unable to get worried next to Merlin, the lack of knowledge about the other man still frustrates him to no end.

Luckily or not, they don’t get to experience this constrained status for long.

**17.**  
But before all that, something even more puzzling happens.

It’s related to Gwen this time, and Arthur is used to not figuring out women - hence his regular comments about Merlin’s personality issues. But even learning about Merlin’s true nature wasn’t as confusing as his conversation with Gwen on this regular late summer day.

“What’s going on between you two?” she asks completely out of nowhere, looking up from her embroidery. They are in Arthur’s bedroom, spending a quiet evening together which they’ve done so many times since their wedding.

“I’m sorry, what?” Arthur asks, and he is glad he held his book not high above the table so it’s fall doesn’t make a prominent sound.

“You and Merlin” Gwen clarifies and puts her handiwork on the table. “I saw you watching him during great part of the council meeting today. Yesterday, too.”

Or the day before that. And the other one. Or basically every single day they are in the same room. Gwen doesn’t say it all, but her eyes do.

“Just making sure he doesn’t fall asleep?” Arthur tries weakly, but he has long learned that he can’t lie to Gwen, not where it matters. She regards him silently, not deigning his excuse with an answer and he sighs.

“I can’t really talk about it, it’s...” _not my secret to share_ , he thinks, because whatever reason Merlin has for hiding himself, it doesn’t seem to be a joyful one, and he is still not sure whether the the whole issue will blow over or not.

“Complicated, I understand” Gwen says and holds out her hand across the table for Arthur to hold. He takes it reflexively but regards her suspiciously.

“You do?” Is it possible for Gwen to know about Merlin’s secret, too? Maybe he told her? _No, that line of thought is too painful, don’t go there_ , he stops himself.

She stays silent for a long while, then strengthens her grip on his hands and looks back at him with tearful eyes. “I know what it’s like to love someone you shouldn’t.”

Arthur would have probably fallen backwards with his chair, had they not been linking hands.

“What?”

“I suspected it for some years,” Gwen keeps rambling on without taking notice of Arthur freezing up, “but I wasn’t sure just how serious it was, I didn’t know if it affected how you keep your distance from me and obviously I didn’t see what the two of you were-”

“No, really, what are you talking about?” Arthur asks louder this time, as politely as he can.

“Uhm” Gwen cocks her head to the side and considers him for a moment. “Is it possible that you are not aware of it?”

“Aware of what?” Arthur hasn’t felt more baffled in his life, and that includes all the moments Merlin switched from an idiotic servant to a wise sage in mere seconds.

Gwen’s answering smile is small and sour. “You’ve never looked at me the way you do at him”

When Arthur doesn’t seem to react, she gets up and rounds the table to stand in front of him.

“Just... tell me if you figure it out, okay?” she says, and her voice is shaky but there is determination in her eyes. “Remember that I love you, and want you to be happy. Both of you, actually.”

She leans down and presses a gentle kiss to Arthur’s forehead, then leaves the room with fast steps, forgetting her needlework. She is not fast enough, however, for Arthur not to hear her quiet sobs before the door closes.

He has absolutely no idea of what has just occurred and thinking about it gives him too much of a headache to try and understand it all. His relationship with Gwen isn’t something he has spent long hours analysing - he loves her, she loves him, and he feels comfortable with her in a way he hasn’t with any of the princesses he met in his life. Their married life has been a calm and content one so far, maybe not as wild as Gwaine likes to suggest, much to Elyan’s chagrin, but he figures that with leading a kingdom, every small moment is valuable enough.

He indeed spends a lot of time watching Merlin and thinking about him, but that’s for reasons Gwen doesn’t know about. And even if their relationship is a bit... closer, that’s because they basically spent the last 5 years side by side in every minute. Arthur can’t remember any significant moment where Merlin wasn’t present, and if he were not related to his current troubles, he would be the first one whose advice Arthur would seek. But that’s how best friends, even if fake ones, naturally behave, right?

_Is trust and dependence just a flaw in every aspect?_

**18.**  
After the months of awkward tension, painful speculation, sad silences and countless staring matches, the resolve to Arthur’s troubles happens in such a roundabout way that makes the entire conflict look almost mundane.

They are out on patrol, the usual small company and the king, no matter how much the council protests against him personally riding out. They find the hideout of the bandits who have been harassing some of the weaker outlying villages, and they surround their group divided into pairs. Merlin is with Arthur of course, even though he is unprotected and barely armed as always - Arthur has no idea why he has let him come with them like that before, without the knowledge that Merlin is actually capable of protecting himself. It must have been his pride and refusal to admit the other man’s value, and he wonders whether those qualities exist in Merlin and affect his decision to keep Arthur in the dark.

Either way, Arthur doesn’t worry about Merlin’s safety that much anymore, and that becomes their undoing.

On Leon’s sign, they all raid the camp at the same time. Arthur is maneuvering between several people at once as always, not having any spare attention left to his surroundings. He blocks one attack with his sword and kicks another men over, then shields from a punch with his arm and strikes blindly into flesh - all the enemies around him drop for a moment and that’s when he sees it, Merlin crouching over the unconscious Gwaine, checking him for injuries frantically because there seems to be blood everywhere, and the fool he is, he doesn’t sense the man creeping towards him from behind. Arthur starts running but he knows he can’t reach them in time so he shouts, and Merlin looks up at his name but it’s too late, the man is already bringing his sword down from above-

-and then it suddenly stops. If anything, Merlin’s life instincts seem to be working, or so Arthur thinks as he halts a few steps from the pair. There was nothing flashy, no sparks or weird words, Merlin didn’t even seem to move yet the sword is frozen mid air above him, with the bandit clinging to it and looking literally speechless. But Merlin turns away from his attacker, noticing Arthur’s presence and his face turns from focused to horrified - and the sword comes into motion once more.

Arthur thanks the lifetime fighting experience for his fast reaction, because it’s only due to his refined reflexes that he tackles the bandit less than a blink after he sees the sword moving. Once on the ground together, he runs the man through with his sword, then turns back towards Merlin, with his mind clouded by the adrenaline.

“Just how much of an idiot are you?! Why would you drop your defense like that?” Arthur shouts at Merlin, but the latter just stares back with a gaping mouth, looking about ready to faint. “Do what you can for him” Arthur adds, gesturing towards Gwaine, then sprints off, because the battle is still not over.

Maybe it’s the familiar rhythm of fighting, or the fact that his mind is occupied by the usual wave of attack and defense, but Arthur doesn’t feel any groundbreaking change from the fact that the truth is out now - the sky is still blue, the enemies are still bloodthirsty, and apparently Merlin is still an idiot who can’t watch his own backside.

But there is an ease in his movements that wasn’t for very, very long time.

**19.**  
He wishes that temporary relief could have lasted longer, because every step towards his chamber feels heavier than the last one now, his body overwhelmed by a soreness that is different from what he usually feels after physical excursions. No, it’s more likely related to Merlin, who is walking a step behind him, looking like he could throw up in any moment, and Arthur doesn’t think it’s from the state Gwaine was in when they left him with Gaius, because the physician said he had seen much worse.

Arthur bestowed the honor of a written report about the mission on Sir Leon, then told Merlin to follow him into his quarters - he did so wordlessly, looking more collected than before, but still sickly pale. When Arthur closes the door, the room seems to resonate with the sound, emphasizing the silence and the chill in the air.

He carefully drops his damp sword on the cloth laid out on the table from before then slightly spreads his arms to let Merlin take off the pieces of his armor, but the other man doesn’t seem to be next to him as expected. Arthur turns around and finds Merlin still standing by the door, slightly slumping against it and looking at Arthur with curious but timid eyes.

Arthur hates how the sight instantly makes his heart clench with something like ruth, because that’s not a feeling he thinks he can allow himself to have in the current situation; so when he says “Don’t just stand there waiting for the armor to rot off me”, it comes out like a harsh snap, sounding angrier than he actually is.

Merlin walks slowly over with measured steps, as if he isn’t the one who looks like a frightened animal. The undressing process is such a cemented routine of theirs that Arthur hasn’t felt different about it during the past weeks even when he was already carefully watching Merlin’s every motion, but now their moves are out of synch and the air is even more awkward than on the first day did this, when Merlin was trying to figure out where to put couter. Arthur wonders if the oddity means a new beginning or it’s just the quiet rumble before the storm.

Merlin puts the gorget on the table with uncharacteristically great care, then hesitates before reaching for the hauberk. Taking that piece off is a two-men task that requires a lot of pulling and occasionally close groping, which would be impossible in their current tip-toe dance.

Merlin is fiddling with his hands, staring at the floor, then visibly squares his shoulders and looks up at Arthur. “How long have you known?” he asks, and his voice is so faint he has to clear his throat midway, but his eyes are steady.

“A while” Arthur answers curtly. He doesn’t feel ready for this conversation, his head and his heart are swimming with diverse emotions, but he knows they have to get through it if he ever wants to move forward in his life again.

Merlin doesn’t back down from Arthur’s gruffness, but he appears to be on the brink of tears.

“I’m so sorry, but let me explain, I’ve never-”

Despite the plea, Arthur cuts him off. “Get me out of this before you start, or I’ll suffocate by the time you finish.” It’s rude maybe, caring about his own comfort when Merlin is visibly getting distressed, but a part of Arthur feels there has been a lot of offense done his..friend can atone for.

Merlin steps forwards and grabs the bottom of the chainmail, but his hands are slightly shaking and the shirt gets stuck around Arthur’s middle. A tear slips his eyes, and standing this close to each other, Arthur is much too aware of the tremor in Merlin’s body and his ragged breathing. He ponders whether it’s possible for someone to fake such reactions, reactions which seem strong enough that they start effecting Arthur himself.

He gently puts a hand on Merlin’s frozen grip on the hauberk. He feels Merlin’s raging pulse under his fingers, and they become one haggard being as the time seems to slow down.

“Maybe you can do it.. with..with..” Arthur’s voice is softer this time, only filling out the little space between them, but he can’t say the actual word, because it possesses an overtone that doesn’t fit this delicate moment.

“...with magic?” Merlin finishes for him, looking hopeful for the first time that day, and when he says the word it sounds like a prayer and not a condemnation. 

Arthur just nods silently, to which Merlin steps back an inch and lightly pushes at Arthur’s arm until he catches on and raises it above his head. Merlin looks back at him one more time, eyes searching, and Arthur doesn’t know what he finds, but in the next moment Merlin looks at the hauberk, raises his eyebrows and Arthur barely catches the curious colors in his eyes when the chainmail is sliding up before his eyes. For a moment his sight is covered - he is in the dark at the mercy of Merlin’s magic, he thinks, but then he is back in the light and watches as Merlin neatly (and much more precisely than usual) folds the removed piece on the table.

There is a badly concealed bright expectant look on Merlin’s face, and Arthur takes off his arming coat alone, earning a few seconds to remind himself just why shouldn’t he endorse that lightness and keep holding on to his receding anguish.

“All these years,” he starts, searching for the best expression to use, “all these years, you’ve been deceiving me” he says finally, looking at Merlin again then clenching his jaws as he sees other man’s face fall. He is king, he can’t make decisions on vague emotions, not even when every fibre of his body is screaming to stop with the frigid act and is yearning to recreate the previous intimate moment.

“I wasn’t, all I ever used magic was for helping you-”

“You lied to me” Arthur cuts in, not wanting to hear actual confirmation of Merlin’s aids he already suspects to be generous, because that can dangerously sway the situation out of his control.

“Only because I had to!” Merlin’s answer is heated and he even looks a bit indignant for a change, but so natural and honest, and so _Merlin_ , that Arthur’s resolve of treating the issue as objectively as he can is crumbling fast. His hurt for his injured pride leaves him, and all that is left is the pain over the rift that appeared between them.

“I trusted you. More than anyone. Why didn’t you trust me?” Arthur says, staring into Merlin’s eyes without hiding his misery this time and grips a chair hard for support. It’s strange how vocalizing his anguish seems to make it even more powerful and real.

Merlin seems taken aback by the change of Arthur’s mood. “I do tr-” he starts defending himself but halts at Arthur’s expression. His head drops and he sighs loudly, but when he looks back up again his teary eyes are full of conviction. “I wanted to tell you. I wanted you to know... more than anything”.

Arthur wants to believe him; hell, great part of him already does and something reckless and bold seems to be building inside him at the sight of his friend’s unveiled emotions, but he can’t give in, not while he still doesn’t understand everything.

“But why... why are you here? Why would you keep living as my servant in secret for all these years? Why if not to gain my trust and use it against me?”

Merlin appears to be seriously offended by Arthur’s last question but he controls his face, stepping closer and looking back earnestly at his friend. “I told you. I believe in you and the kingdom you will... you are building” he says, and Arthur can’t shake off the numerous memories where similar signs of devotion from the other man pulled him through his most dire hours and let him keep going forward. He lets go of the chair he leaned on and takes a tentative step towards Merlin.

“And I’m supposed to believe you’re that selfless?” he asks, with a hint of a tease, but that doesn’t feel completely natural yet.

Merlin looks sheepish as he answers, though, and Arthur doesn’t know how he ever managed to hide his true colors while also being so unrestrained in his reactions. “I did.. I do hope that one day, maybe the kingdom will accept magical people again”

His gaze is full of raw determination, and Arthur suddenly remembers their other conversation among the same lines, the one during which Merlin hid behind a beard and wrinkles as he talked emotionally about the future he hopes for. As all the dots connect Arthur can’t help but laugh out loud and drop his head in complete defeat.

“What?” Merlin asks, confused and with a hint of resurfacing hurt.

Arthur is just shaking his head as he tries to cast off the ridiculous mood that overcame him, which is probably a clear sign of his sanity running off for good.

“I just can’t believe I ever suspected you might have some secret evil plan,” he says finally, and when he looks at Merlin his eyes are challenging in a condescending way like in the old times “when you want to bring back magic to the land without even revealing yourself”.

“I’ve just been waiting for the moment when you finally stop being such a pompous ass” Merlin bites back, seemingly out of reflex, because as the last word leaves his mouth he suddenly looks terrified and wary again. It’s such an abrupt change that Arthur laughs once more, but the reminder to the tone of their conversation makes him clear his throat.

He puts a hand on Merlin’s shoulder and stares with what he hopes is a very serious and menacing look into the man’s eyes. “Thanks to whatever insanity that has befallen on me, I choose to believe you,” the change of Merlin’s expression is instant again as an enormous dopey grin appears on his face, “but, you have to promise me you’ll never lie to me again”.

Arthur’s patronizing tone doesn’t seem to have the desired chastising effect as Merlin looks ready to bounce off his feet, and after a rushed “Of course, I promise” he does spring forward and Arthur suddenly has an armful of skinny, sobbing sorcerer.

He gives himself a few moments to assess what this embrace seals for them and their future before he lets the relief radiating from Merlin’s body overtake him.

Arthur finds it surprisingly easy to shift back to the mindset where he once again keeps Merlin and their relationship in high regard - probably because even during the last torturous months he never managed to completely cast Merlin out of his heart. The world seems to regain it’s balance as Arthur lets Merlin reclaim the role of his greatest support, advisor _and friend_ , but somehow it becomes all even more eminent as he finally allows himself to appreciate what the man has done for him. Arthur’s life seemed to begin the moment Merlin arrived and turned it upside down, and now he has a fair idea it’s thanks to Merlin he is still alive at all. And this man, the man who holds together the entire kingdom by serving the king way out of his line of duty, this powerful man is now unashamedly rubbing snot over Arthur’s shirt and mumbling some incomprehensible things into his shoulder.

_What a pair we are_ , Arthur thinks, the betrayed king and the mistreated sorcerer, yet they can’t let go of each other. And that’s when Arthur is touched by a sense of inevitability, a sense of fate - past, present and future are intertwined as he accepts none of them exists without Merlin by his side, and after all they’ve been through, nothing will ever be able to stop them anymore. He drops his head to breathe in the the scent of the man in his arms, this walking wonder who somehow still manages to be the most defining point in Arthur’s life.

And just then he, ostensibly out of nowhere, remembers Gwen’s words and finally understands them. The realization is both terrifying and uplifting at the same time, as if finally everything falls into place and he knows where he stands. Arthur draws back from the long embrace, but not stepping away. Merlin looks at him with questioning eyes which still shine from the tears he let running free and Arthur reaches up to smudge away the dirty streaks on his face, trying to articulate his revelation but failing.

This moment is the final proof of their connection, as Merlin’s eyes crinkle in answer to the unsaid question and Arthur leans forward without any doubt left in his mind. Their first kiss, if it can be called that, is messy and just a hurried brush of chapped lips, but then Merlin moves his hand to the back of Arthur’s neck and gently angles his head so that their mouths fit perfectly together. Arthur’s last coherent thought as Merlin’s tongue tentatively strokes his lips is that this is _right_ , and he really ought to have listened to his instincts sooner, then he gets lost in the heat that builds between their bodies.

It’s as if they’re trying to make up for the months they’ve spent in stretched silences and keeping a distance by clinging as close to each other as possible, melting into a flurry of hands and lips. Or maybe it’s to catch up with the tension of the long years, that spark that has always seemed to be present but they channeled into banter and insults. When Arthur drops his head to suck at Merlin’s ridiculously taunting neck, an involuntary confession leaves his mouth.

“I want you. All of you. Do you understand?”

I takes Merlin a second to catch his breath and say “You’ve always had me”.

And while that’s not entirely true, Arthur is going to make sure it will be.


End file.
